White Camellias and Bluebells
by Aleyanne
Summary: The bluebells, however, were a new thing.


**I am apparently unable to write anything that isn't angsty, also I should be studying.**

 **Ugh today's chapter makes me want to write Akira/Arima –and I'm pretty much sure I'll end up doing so, imagine defrosting Arima at least a little- but I'm also so in love with Akira /Amon**

 **Bluebells**

The camellias had been her father's favorite –actually, they had been her mother's. Her father hadn't been one to have favorite flowers, but he'd only ever bought those after her mother died- and she always made sure to bring some for both of them.

The bluebells, however, were a new thing.

Akira liked to think that it was just the flower's meaning.

Grateful.

It did fit, of course, but it was not quite what she'd like to say to Amon if she ever saw him again –Oh it was, but if that were to ever happen, she'd say so much more than that, she'd yell at him at first though, for letting himself go MIA in such a circumstance in the first place-.

The wind blew hard and the woman with waist length blonde hair knelt down, pressed the small blue bouquet on the tomb and prayed.

.

.

She was promoted to first class on a warm day in July.

A year had passed in grueling decades; guilt had washed over her until she learned to see through the sheets pouring over her head.

The day after, she'd been ordered to report to Cochlea.

Her new mission was a man with hair like snow and the eyes of a sad little boy.

He brought her terrifying hope.

For all that it was worth, Akira held her own through the meeting, listening to Washuu and Arima talk in grave voices to the creature that barely seemed to have much of a will of his own, bound as he was though he'd not moved a muscle or expressed any animosity since they had come in.

Later, at her apartment, she'd let herself sink into thoughts of her superior being dragged and turned against his will.

There had been no body, nothing really but a trail of blood, ghouls wouldn't have taken him if he had just been intended as a meal, they had left even his quinque-which they took sometimes, for sentimental reasons or just to take one more weapon from them, who knew?-, and it hardly made sense that they should take his corpse.

Would he even be himself anymore if such ended up being the case?

Once she dreamt that he came back half crazy and starved, in the dream she cried as Fueguchi 1 tore through him

.

.

Haise Sasaki considered himself her child.

They were barely two years apart in age, but somehow she found it that the maternal instinct she never thought she had manifested itself towards that man, that ghoul.

When she'd found out who this man had once been, she'd wanted to hate him, even more than she'd wanted to hate Amon when she'd first met him.

She'd failed miserably though.

Sasaki was a kind man, with a gaze so sorrowful that sometimes she wondered if maybe he remembered just enough about the pain he had gone through to be sad about.

Amon had once told her that he'd refused to kill him, back when Sasaki had just been eye patch.

This had been the time when he'd prevented Amon from reaching her father on time, if she was laying blames, then she ought to blame Sasaki for everything.

Akira was sick of blaming though.

.

.

The day she had to shoot Sasaki to keep him under control she went to their graves again, no flowers that time because it was two in the morning when the mad desire to sit by them seized her- she might have used her badge to convince the rather spooked groundskeeper to let her in-.

Akira knelt at her father's grave; Amon rested just a few tombs away.

Only he didn't

Time had made things easier, soothed the wounds, she'd found herself all tangled up in the lives of her subordinates.

Even if she was going crazy, probably because she was going crazy.

There were broad-shouldered shadows around her that disappeared the moment she'd turn her gaze towards them like he was a ghost that happened to err around the places she frequented. No one seemed to notice them, even when Akira could feel him there, staring at her from some place between the two worlds that coexisted within Tokyo. On principle, she found the strange, inconstant presence terrifying. At night when she felt eyes on the apartment's tightly shut windows, it could almost feel comforting.

So she figured she had to be going crazy from all of the blood that was spilled around her, that she spilled herself –because the alternative was too painful and she needed to believe that life wasn't so ironically cruel that such a thing would happen to that man of all people-.

The golden rays of dawn were spilling over the white marble headstones when she got up and left.

There were eyes on her back then too, but she had to check on Sasaki at eight.

.

.

From first class upwards you had access to documents that were classified to the rest.

She'd only heard the floppy rumors, but something sparked her memory. A cannibal ghoul and Takizawa.

What were the odds?

If Kureo Mado had taught his daughter anything it was to trust her instincts.

She also needed to keep herself occupied for some time, seeing her former teammate turned into a deranged beast had been unsettling to say the least.

There were not many clues as to the mysterious figure; the only reason that he'd been given a name other than subject #2569 was that someone had heard a member of Aogiri call him by the name that he now received. What little had been gathered was that he was a cannibal ghoul, that he preyed mostly on Aogiri members and that evidence of his involvement had first been found a year and a half prior, they hadn't found evidence of him eating humans.

The eyewitness accounts were few and unreliable, an old man in the countryside whose family had been eaten by Aogiri ghouls in front of his eyes, a scared prostitute who'd been saved by a dark figure in an even darker alley and the like.

Any ghoul that had seen him was dead as far as Akira knew.

There was one thing though, that the two or three semi-reliable eyewitnesses seemed to agree on.

He was a broad figure, wrapped in a length of ripped dark fabric, tall as few men were, at least in japan.

All in all it made no difference, it didn't confirm anything –how many tall men were there roaming around anyway? - But it helped keep her suspicions alive.

For a second she wished they'd somehow found a way to restrain Takizawa for long enough to ask.

.

.

The Ghoul stood proudly in front of her, an S-rated rinkaku protruded from its back.

Its partner had to be close by, Akira had managed to send him flying, but she had a feeling that he'd be back soon.

She gripped Fueguchi 1 and charged ahead.

The battle ended with the smell of blood coating her and adrenaline coursing through her blood like small balls of light or fire or some sort of energy that traveled fast and blinded the eyes that landed on it.

The creature's partner-now she could tell that it had been a male, which had not been apparent below the heavy Aogiri coat-, had never appeared.

Akira didn't count herself as lucky; the team she'd been assisting was dead, in fact, aside from her and the creature's partner every being that had been involved in the skirmish had died. It had been a rather clever ambush, but most of its members had been low level aside from the two S-rated ones. Most of her team had been quite green too though, had Haise been there with her things would have gone much smoother, their side would have probably suffered far less casualties, but he was off with his little adoptees doing god knew what.

Back up arrived late, it couldn't be helped, no one was ever near an area that was supposed to be pacific and she had not been able to get through to them quickly due to the bad reception.

From her stomach, blood poured like a cascade, the wound the last ghoul had left her with was serious enough that she wasn't sure she'd make it.

Akira sat down in the field of corpses, back resting against some rubble from her last battle. If the other ghoul appeared she'd probably not be able to fend him off but she kept her fingers tightly wrapped around Fueguchi's handle.

And she waited, in the freezing air of winter.

When her eyes closed the sirens were still blazing in the distance and a long shadow had come up to her and laid stretched on the pavement

.

.

When she awoke it was to hushed whispers and the scent of antiseptic laden linoleum floors.

Opening her eyes –or trying to-proved to be a very painful experience, she hadn't gotten around to making out the vague shapes above her when she had to close them back up.

"…but seriously, Mado-san managed to stop the bleeding long enough that they got to save her"

"Yeah, and I heard that neither of the S-class ghouls survived too" Well at least she was at the CCG hospital. Akira's body relaxed a little.

"She really takes after her parents huh?"

"All of the genius of Mado the crazy and all of the tenacity of Mado the strong" Within her heavy head she felt annoyed at whoever was saying this things with such a high pitched voice.

What did they know about her father and her mother anyway?

If she'd felt any less beat up and groggy she'd have at least thrown a stinging quit at them for bring annoying gossips.

As it was all that escaped her mouth was a pained groan.

"Mado-san" The nurse came quickly to her bedside "Welcome back, do you feel anything out of the ordinary"

She was tempted to answer that it was none of the other's business after how she'd been talking about Akira's father, thinking better of it she shook her head and somehow managed to croak out "How long was I out?"

"Oh, around three days I think"

.

.

The case reports had been given to her to sort out.

Probably because she was the only one supposed to actually know well what had happened.

Though apparently she did not.

Tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear Akira stared at the report the paramedics had written on her upon picking up her battered body from the scene.

The blood-flow from her stomach had been staunched in the standard, first aid way.

It was something she could have done on her own.

But she hadn't.

Akira was more than sure that she hadn't.

 _Am I really going crazy?_

Confused, she turned the page over, hoping that there was some sort of explanation to the bizarre thing, strangely, there was another page behind it –madical reports of surviving officers were always folded in last because they were the last to be updated- the last page was a recent report from the department of forensics, it had just been flied in that morning.

Akira's eyes moved erratically over the page.

 _S-rated male ghoul… the third floor of a building that overlooks the main scene… clear evidence of cannibalism… wounds don't match Fueguchi 1's quinque type…it is thought that a ghoul is…_

 _Temporarily attributed to the ghoul designated as Floppy._

She almost screamed

.

.

Her report was turned in and she made the short walk to Arima's office.

Going in, she found him sitting on a chair by the window with a book on his lap.

"Mado-san" He looked up, completely unsurprised "Is there anything you needed?"

"Something, yes" she paused for a moment "I want to assist on the investigation on Floppy"

"I'm afraid you'd have to discuss that with chief Washuu"

"It's being handled by special class investigators" She smiled her sweetest, yet her eyes held iron "But he will listen to you"

Arima leant back, closing his book calmly and met her earnest gaze with a stern one of his own "It would help if I knew why you wanted into this case"

Akira breathed in deep "I believe he could be a linchpin in the battle against Aogiri"

"Which is why the Special class is investigating him, since he's apparently popped up of nowhere and very clearly above S-rank" The silver haired man sighed "Tell me the truth Akira"

Arima Kishou was a stern man, serious and detached, but that didn't mean that he was bad at reading people, Akira knew by experience. Her crazy theories did not sound as crazy anymore and she figured that at this point, if she was right it might not be as dangerous to reveal them to a superior that had seen with his own eyes how an artificial half-ghoul could be.

"I'm… I suspect there's a chance that he could be First Class Amon Koutarou…" She started recounting the events, some were shaky evidence, conjectures and Arima pursed his lips as he listened, though he did seem to stiffen up when she mentioned the injury that she'd let go untreated that should have bled out long before the back up arrived .

"I see…" She man turned around walking across the richly decorated office "That is indeed one of the theories we have been working on" He turned quickly, spearing her with a gelid gaze "Are you sure that you can work on this case without getting your personal feelings involved? Even if it came to be that it was First class Amon and he had become hostile?"

A knot formed in her throat –she wanted to say that he wouldn't do that, that he'd saved her- truth was that Amon had not tried to come back to the CCG even now that the existence of Sasaki and the Qs was well known among ghouls –they didn't even know if he had actually come back and even if they did they wouldn't know if he had come back quite right-. "If it came to it, I'm sure that the investigator Amon I knew would have wanted me to act on the interest of humanity" She responded a mask of perfect composure over her turbulent feelings.

Arima nodded once, his face betrayed nothing "Very well, I shall recommend you when you turn in your request"

Akira's face was taken over by a pleased smile "Thank you very much Arima-san"

The other man's only response was to stare at her in a way that made it evident that he'd be watching.

.

.

Night found her sitting on her balcony; just beside where she'd once found him nearly passed out from exhausting himself while taking her of her troublesome drunk persona.

The cat had gone for the night too.

Being left alone to reminisce was usually not something she liked, though this time she allowed herself to do so.

There was, however tainted, uncertain and little, a flicker of hope that she finally allowed herself to recognize.

It had been born of the shadows and nurtured by Takizawa's ghastly apparition. It had been kept neutral and fanned by Sasaki's existence and she chose to keep it safe for now.

She had, truly hated her superior at the start, but the man had grown on her. He'd tried the way most men didn't try to form a bond with her, always constant and respectful and interested only on keeping them both safe and their missions successful. He had been a very serious man, the kind that barely knew how to react when joked with and who would defend his own very straight sense of honor even in small matters. That had been annoying at first though some time after it had become alluring, he was a mix of innocence –but not naivete- with undeniable strength and incorruptible honor. He was her rock though he was also vulnerable, he had priorities well set and Akira had found herself amazed that a man with his background –she had taken a peak into his record before they had met- had been such a honestly good person despite the undeniable piece of darkness that lived down in his heart –like it did in everybody's-.

He had been serious, loyal and protective and unexpectedly sweet when he let his more work drive demeanor down for a bit.

Akira had wanted him first, wanted him because he was strong and powerful and impressive –and she'd never been the kind to deny herself that she wanted someone in that way- and even though she did not remember, she was sure that that desire had manifested the one night they'd spent within the walls of that very same apartment.

At some point she had come to love him for all of the reasons she had already thought of.

She'd wanted him to know, but the idiot always found some way to surprise her –truncating her plan to hate him forever for letting her dad die being one of them-.

That kiss that never had been was not the only thing she wanted to change, but definitely one high on her list.

She felt familiar eyes on her, form somewhere in the shadows of the street below.

He'd saved her so many times, and for that she was immensely grateful.

Leaning into the veranda she uttered a single phrase into the freezing December night-her wound still ached, but she bore with it- completely oblivious that somewhere else, another woman not much younger than her in the a similar situation though of them every night.

"I believe in you"

 **I'm not sure if Akira is too OOC, I tried to write her a bit more stoic than I usually do with female characters because she's, well, Akira but I'm not so sure.**

 **I'd love to hear what you thought of this little thing**

 **Lots of love**


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